The King Must ‘Perform’!

Tom Hooper’s The King’s Speech is apparently a heart-warming tale of how King George VI overcomes his speech impediment with the assistance of an Australian speech therapist Lionel Logue. But the film has larger political implications: it is not just about conquering a disability, it is also about the public role of the King, and that too the British King in the 1930s who must put up a majestic performance on the world stage, a performance that would have well-meaning impact not only in England but the numerous colonies to which he was the ultimate symbol of power.

The film at one level offers a common man’s story, the Duke of York (who later becomes George VI) stripped of the royal aura that circumscribes him; at another level, it unravels the pressures of becoming the King of England, the obligation of performing as a King must conventionally perform so as to keep inviolate the notion of the Protector and perhaps also the hallowed image God’s anointed  and appointed representative on Earth. In the face of the Nazi uprising in Germany, on the eve of World War II, the King cannot afford not to perform according to the expectations of his millions of subjects scattered across the globe. The personal and the political come into a major conflict which the King must resolve. He must overcome his speech impediment or tarnish his kingly image irredeemably. The film captures the psychological struggle of the disabled King with remarkable intensity without being preachy. Colin Firth carries off the role with panache and so much credibility that you fall in love with him.

It’s a story of the marginalized, ironically indeed. The King of England and marginal? The sublimity of The King’s Speech perhaps lies in its making this absolutely credible. The King is stripped off the aura that makes him King and the film imagines his private life with amazing sincerity. While probing into the psychological roots that may be the cause of the fumble, Lionel discovers how the young prince was forced to give up his left-handedness; how he suffered the painful treatment for his knock-knees; how his nanny hated him and pinched him in the presence of his parents so that he wailed to the disgruntlement of the latter. From early childhood, he was thrust into role-playing, and no form of disability or unconventional behaviour was encouraged in him; in fact, was mercilessly repressed. Here the King’s tale coincides with that of any unfortunate child who has gone through traumatic experiences for not being ‘normal’. This is exactly where the audience connects with the King’s story, and partakes his grief.

David Seidler’s screenplay which is a product of several years’ serious research is near flawless. However, the ensemble cast is perhaps something one should look forward to. Geoffrey Rush as the unrelenting speech therapist with an excellent sense of humour is a treat. Helena Bonham Carter as the King’s wife (I would not say queen and you would know why when you watch the film) is marvellous. She shares her husband’s insecurities with so much affection that she almost unknowingly ends up playing a caring mother to a helpless child. The rest of the cast is equally believable.

The King’s Speech is a must watch; it takes you within the walls of the imposing Buckingham Palace and reveals to you the emotional odyssey of a man beyond the grandiloquent mask of Your Highness that he wears and how!

Memories in March: Bonding and Beyond

Aar Ekti Premer Golpo has paved the path for the issue of alternative sexuality find access to the arena of popular Bengali cinema. But Bengali cinema is yet to come of age when in comes to representing alternative sexuality; for, it’s high time that queerness was rescued from being an issue and represented as ‘normal’. Whether it’s Aar Ekti Premer Golpo or the present film Memories in March (Dir: Sanjay Nag), the endeavour to ‘normalize’ queerness is more than honest; but the very fact that it’s an ‘issue’ is something none of these films have been able to transcend. Perhaps, because Bengali cinema is still at a very immature stage of representing queerness, that it tends to get preachy documentary-style whenever queerness is discussed. Therefore when a disconcerted Mrs. Mishra (Deepti Naval) innocently asks Ornab (Rituparno Ghosh) that whether her negligence or her inability to spend quality time with her son Siddharth has anything to do with the ‘abnormality’ in him, Ornab is infuriated and tells her to have herself examined by a psychiatrist. Bengali cinema is still at a stage when a queer relationship cannot be represented like any other heterosexual relationship without the weighty baggage of justification. Many would argue the very concept of being queer is rather ‘new’ to India; in fact, the heteronormative/queer binary has entered the popular consciousness of the country after the economic liberalization in the early 90s. Therefore, it is impossible not to address the question of associating abnormality with queerness even at this stage. But I believe that queer cinema comes of age only when it represents same-sex relationships as natural, and not as something deviant which demands to be integrated into the mainstream. Memories in March has failed to achieve that maturity.

Coming to the film proper: Memories in March is not a merely a film about a gay relationship; it is something more than that. In fact, like many other Rituparno Ghosh films, it is about human bonding, about the genesis of new relationships between strangers despite apparent differences. However, things seem to happen too fast. Mrs. Mishra arrives in Kolkata to collect the ashes of her deceased son when she shockingly discovers that he was gay. She learns from Shahana (Raima Sen) that he was in a relationship with his boss Ornab, whom she accuses of having seduced her son. Ornab loses his cool and enters into a verbal tirade with Mrs. Mishra which ends in an emotional calamity. However, Mrs. Mishra gradually comes to terms with her son’s being gay and accepts Ornab and the fact of his being an integral part of her son’s life.

What strikes us as unnatural is how amazingly composed the characters are! Be it Ornab, be it Shahana, or be it the bereaved mother herself − all of them a remarkably controlled. Although Ornab breaks into tears sitting in the car at the place of the accident, the way he dresses up the very next day in office does not carry any mark of what he is going through. Shahana claims to be in love with Siddharth; but she too is exceptionally unperturbed. Mrs. Mishra too seems to rise above the trauma much too soon. Perhaps none of the characters believe in public display of private emotions. But somehow Siddharth’s sudden death does not seem to be a harrowing affair. There’s too much of an economy of emotions which at times appears incredible. However, I must admit that the songs penned by Rituparno Ghosh with their melancholy notes compensate for the emotions that seem to be lacking.

The film may appear a bit stifling for most of it happens in a poorly-lit apartment; perhaps the apartment contributes to the dark mood of the film, but somehow it appears a tad claustrophobic. Even the rains which come in the end only slant into the balcony of the flat drenching the clay ash-container. Besides that, too many television-style close-ups grate on the nerves at times; there’s barely a long shot in the entire film. Sometimes it seems that you are watching a telefilm.

Veteran actor Deepti Naval is simply outstanding; she is never over-the-top. Although remarkably composed, her eyes speak volumes. She does not act; she behaves and that too with an amazing dignity that suits her personality to a T. Rituparno Ghosh was comparatively better in Aar Ekti Premer Golpo; however, he tries his best to deliver. But his English is slightly strained. Raima Sen is extremely unimpressive as Shahana, although expectations were higher this time.

Memories in March is nonetheless sensible and demands a one-time watch at least. And let me tell you it does not appear to be a Rituparno Ghosh film as many had anticipated it would. Although the look-and-feel is reminiscent of many a Ghosh flick, none can deny that it has been made by someone else. It’s a Sanjay Nag film, after all. Despite Ghosh’s script, it certainly lacks the fine emotional touch that is the hallmark of an out-and-out Ghosh film.

N.B: I have one fear though: Rituparno Ghosh should not become the face of gayness per se. All gay people are not like Rituparno Ghosh. Perhaps this could have been better established had the film shown Siddharth over whom girls too used to drool and with whom Shahana fell in love, head-over-heels. That too would have contributed to breaking the stereotype even more!